


Variations on a Theme

by pepperfield



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Future Fic, Getting Together, Literal Sleeping Together, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, NurseyDex Week, Sharing a Bed, Soft (tm)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-06 13:29:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11601618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperfield/pseuds/pepperfield
Summary: Sometimes, it takes a little longer to get where you were always meant to be.Snapshots from a relationship over ten years in the making. Starring Chris Chow as the long-suffering best friend, Caitlin Farmer as the world's #1 wingwoman, a plethora of exasperated children, and the two lovebirds themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing these for NurseyDex Week '17, but am bad at both tumblr and time management, so I thought I'd just put them up here! Chapter one is for day one's theme (getting together/mutual pining), but the whole series is Soft™ future fic overall. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns!

“You look good,” Dex says, and it’s not the champagne speaking, because his glass is still fizzing full and his face isn’t as pink as the table centerpiece yet. Which means it must be a feint.

“My tie was stolen,” is the first defense Nursey can scrounge up. At least it’s true; Chowder’s cousin’s daughter is wearing it like a pageant sash over her fluffy yellow dress.

“You can’t call it a crime if you gave it away, Nurse.”

“I was coerced! She sent her goons after me.” He points to the girl’s two older siblings, each probably about six or seven years old. One of them waves shyly when he notices Nursey looking his way.

“Strong-armed by some first graders? Incredible.”

“Hey, I’m a pacifist, man. There’s nothing I could’ve done.”

Dex laughs into his glass before knocking back the whole thing in one gulp like they can still drink the way they did in college. “And here I was, thinking you were some kind of big, tough sports star - Farmer’s sister told me you play that game...what’s it called? Hocking? Hackney?”

“Hackysack,” Nursey says with a modest shrug. “You want a demonstration? We could clear a little spot on the dance floor, use Farmer’s bouquet-”

“Jesus, don’t, you’ll take someone out at the knees.” Dex is laughing again, and Nursey feels that familiar old flutter all over that also has nothing to do with champagne. A few years out from Samwell he had come to terms with the fact that it would never quite fade. Distance and time notwithstanding, because Nursey knows by now that he when he burns, he burns down to the wick.

The reception is nothing like a Haus party, but there’s something reminiscent of those hazy nights where time loses meaning and the present is a blur of heat and music. Maybe it’s just that after all these years, no matter how many people are in the room, Nursey’s eyes still search for every flash of amber and orange, every glimpse of freckled skin and that hesitant smile. Whatever it is, it’s brought back that same old ache.

Here they are again, dressed to the nines and a decade too old to be making alcohol driven mistakes, and Nursey wants nothing more than to lean in and confess one of the thousand iterations of that truth, the one he’s held close to his heart for too damn long. The same one he almost gave away after their last game in junior year (variation 29), and graduation day (variation 4), and that itinerant night in the city when Dex’s plane wasn't leaving until 5 a.m. the next morning (variation 41).

Variation 26 tickles at the back of Nursey’s throat - _you remember that time we got locked outside the Haus on Christmas Eve and we realized we’d have to hibernate in the library stacks for the winter, and you promised you wouldn't eat my kidneys to survive_ \- but he swallows it down, because all these truths end the same way, and he knows he can't say those words tonight. A hundred and more chances over the last ten years, and they've never been spoken yet. Tonight's no different.

He defaults to what he knows: the safe ground between chirping and sentimentality. “Alright, then come dance with me, Poindexter,” he demands, already mapping how the conversation will play out.

As he expects, Dex declines. “I don’t know this song,” he claims, leaning back in his chair, and for once it's not a lie.

“Just because it's in Portuguese doesn't mean you can't feel the rhythm,” Nursey counters, and Dex flicks a burst of silver confetti at him, smiling when it clings to his jacket even after he tries to brush it off.

“I thought I didn't _have_ any rhythm, Nursey. Or so you've told me about fifty times.”

“It's never too late to learn?”

“I’m not taking lessons from you, Mr. Six-weeks-in-a-cast Eight-weeks-on-crutches.”

“What if _I_ asked?” Farmer, now dressed in her teal wedding cheongsam instead of her white gown, leans down between the two of them, grinning when they hurry to straighten in their seats. “How about it? A dance with the bride?” She holds out a hand to Dex, who doesn't even put up a token protest before accepting.

“I know better than to turn you down.”

“Try not to step on her too much,” Nursey says as she leads him out to the floor, and Dex calls back, “Don't worry, I'll save it all for you.”

Nursey isn't left watching them long before the groom drops down into Dex’s vacated seat. “She stole your man, huh?” Chowder asks, throwing his arm around the back of Nursey’s chair. He looks flushed and happy, and Nursey loves it.

“More like I stole hers,” Nursey says, leaning over to plant a wet kiss on Chowder’s cheek. C snickers, enveloping him in a one-armed hug before reaching out to steal the last smidgen of icing from Lardo’s abandoned plate.

“So, have you taken advantage of your connecting rooms yet?” he asks brightly, and Nursey sighs, because they've been having this same ongoing battle forever. 

“You know I didn't.”

Chowder isn't deterred. “I should’ve put you two in the same room. Just like old times!”

“Chris, you know that would've literally killed me.”

“Yeah, which is why I didn't. But seriously,” Chowder says, “and I know you're sick of hearing this, but just this once, as a wedding present to me, can't you take a chance and ask?” He’s as patient as he is every time he tries, but like each instance before, Nursey shakes his head.

“Not tonight. It’s not the right time.”

“It never is. Why _not_ tonight? What’s your excuse this time?” Chowder doesn’t sound unkind, but he isn’t letting Nursey off easy again.

Nursey turns, and without exception his attention is drawn through the crowd to Dex, who spins Farmer slowly across the floor. He’s softer now in some ways than he was in college, a settled confidence in the way he carries himself that he didn’t find until a few years after they first met. When he and Farms turn again, he meets Nursey’s eyes, and it brings the slightest of smiles to his face. Variation 33 comes to mind ( _I was a magnet for mosquito bites, you were a magnet for fireflies, and I learned to love summer too_ ), and Nursey knows for sure why he can’t tonight.

“It’s not what I’m looking for,” he tells Chowder, trying to keep the yearning in his voice subdued. “What, we hook-up at the hotel, then fly back home and don’t see each other for another five months, and I just have to hope that magically I’ll have gotten over him by then? It’s not an itch to scratch, C, you know that. It’s either all in or nothing at all.”

He could handle never knowing, just burning eternal on his own regrets and missed chances. But he could never pretend his feelings are less than they really are.

Chowder nods thoughtfully, considering his words. “Okay, that makes sense. But you’re both in town tomorrow too, right? If not tonight, then tomorrow morning. Skip brunch - I’ll cover for you - and go do something together. Finally go on that date you never did ask for.”

Nursey snorts, dragging a finger through the condensation on his glass, watching droplets melt away the frost. “And after? Even if he says yes-”

“He will. And after, you’ll figure it out. You guys really don’t live that far from each other,” Chowder scolds. “If you’re really all in, you’ll find a way.”

It sounds nice in theory, but Chowder’s forgetting one important point.

“Sure, _I’m_ all in, but Dex-”

“Derek.” Chowder puts a stern hand on his shoulder, staring hard into his eyes. “You're going to tell me honestly, because I'm your best friend and I love you - do you really think you're the only one who’s been pining stupidly away for the last ten years? Can you really look me in the eye and say that you’ve never once, not for a moment, noticed that Dex looks at you the same way you look at him?”

Nursey hesitates a split second too long, because he _can't_ , not if he's being absolutely honest. And that's what always gets him, that's why he hasn't let go. Because the possibility was always greater than zero, and so he held on hope that one day it _would_ be the right time, the perfect moment. That singular point when everything they wanted and everything they were could finally align with each other.

Chowder notices, because he always does, and he sits back to give Nursey some space to think. They sit quietly, watching the festivities around them, and Chowder muses aloud to Nursey, “You know, all those reasons you think you shouldn't be together...they don't stand a chance against the reasons why you should. You don’t think Cait and I ever had doubts? Or problems, or stupid fights?” His brown eyes soften unexpectedly, and he bumps his fist against Nursey’s arm. “But we knew we were it for each other, and we made it work. I’m pretty sure you two stubborn jerkasses can work it out too. If for no reason other than to spite me.”

And of course Nursey knows that relationships take work, that love can't sustain itself without effort, and that thought isn't as terrifying as he figured it might be. He's good at hard work. And Dex makes him feel like it would be worth it. Worth the culmination of years and years of quiet pining.

There’s a reason he always finds himself rewriting the same lines to this poem, these feelings that exist in infinite variation.

“How do you always make your way sound so reasonable?” Nursey asks, feigning a frown, and Chowder pulls him to his feet, knowing that he’s won.

“Because at least one of us has to be the sensible one, and after freshman year it was obviously me. Now, I'm gonna go dance with my wife, then check on my team, and you are going to finally do what you've been putting off for too long.”

“Alright. Fuck, I'm doing this.” Chowder beams, and Nursey pulls him into a tight hug. “Congratulations again, bro. You and Cait really deserve each other, and I'm so happy for you two.”

“Thanks, Nursey. You ready?”

They come upon Dex and Farmer talking to some of her former SWV teammates, and Chowder whisks her away after thanking everyone there. Nursey feels awkward breaking up the conversation but Dex follows him off to the side without thinking twice, and they end up milling near the doorway, away from the crowds.

“I didn't step on any toes, but I did have some small children point and laugh at me, so I'm not sure if I can consider this a win,” Dex says ruefully, and Nursey feels the tension inside him dissolve when he laughs. This is just Dex, he reminds himself. This doesn't have to be difficult. Things haven’t been difficult since they turned 21 and almost threw up their fishbowl specials on each other outside the last existing Burger King in southern Mass.

“I told you, bro, kids are vicious. Mean little fuckers.”

Dex watches him sidelong for a second before the corner of his mouth twitches up. “You can’t fool me. Kids love you.”

“They love _tormenting_ me, yes.” Nursey swoons dramatically against the wall, and Dex taps his ankle with his foot.

“Liar. I know you’re a cool uncle; I recognize my own kind.”

“You’ve never been cool a single day in your life, William.”

“Don’t even start with me, _Derek_.”

Dex bumps their shoulders and Nursey is flashing back to senior year: on the ice and under the arena lights, back to the boards and Dex and C wrapped around him as noise envelops them. Then ( _with you, I’m invincible_ ), just as now ( _you pretend you don’t give my name away like a gift_ ), he wants to lay it bare, spill his secrets out in whatever form comes first to him. 

Now. Now is the time. He just has to do what Chowder suggested.

He takes a breath. Swallows it down. Pushes out the extraneous words that sprout like white clover under his tongue, because he needs to keep this simple. 

Before he can get the first words out, Dex speaks up. “Hey. Are you busy tomorrow?” He’s looking at the dance floor instead of at Nursey.

“Um, I was putting some serious thought into brunch,” Nursey answers mindlessly, scrambling to recoup the plan. “But I could be free. I mean, I can become available, if you, like, had plans or whatevs.”

Dex stops watching Rans and Holster gathering Chow cousins for a conga line, and settles his gaze on Nursey, his whiskey gold eyes studying him for a moment longer before he speaks again.

“Yeah? You want in on my plans or whatevs?” he mocks gently, nose crinkling under his grin, and Nursey remembers again what it was all this time that kept his fire lighted.

“Sure, somebody should make sure you actually let loose and have some fun in the sun.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I’m actually kind of in the market for a date right now, so if you’re up for it, the job is yours.”

Nursey starts agreeing before he parses the whole sentence. “Okay, I can- wait. What? A date?”

Dex is doing his best to appear unimpressed, but Nursey can tell he’s fighting not to look amused. “That’s what I said. I don’t know if you know, but I’m pretty single right now? And I figured, you know, _I’m_ single, _you’re_ single-”

“Uh,” Nursey says, because all the conversational straws are slipping from his fingers right now and he can’t snap them up quickly enough to figure out what the fuck is happening. Meanwhile, Dex has begun ticking off reasons on his fingers. 

“-we’re both free, I’ve been hung up on you since the end of sophomore year - Christ, and wasn’t that a lifetime ago - you’re still as fuckin’ stunning as ever, not that that’s the only reason I’ve been carrying a torch the size of a forest fire-”

“Wait, hold on a sec-”

“-so, yeah, I mean I was practically wearing a neon ‘please notice me’ sign all through undergrad, but it’s my own fault for never coming out and just _saying_ it, right? That might not have worked anyway, you know I was never good at words like you-”

“William J. Poindexter, shut the fuck up for a second and let me think,” Nursey says, slapping his hand over Dex’s mouth. Dex rolls his eyes, but remains uncharacteristically still, waiting for Nursey to get on his level.

Once Nursey finishes picking out the keywords from Dex’s rambling explanation, which was practically _all_ of them, he removes his hand and promptly tries to occupy his fingers so it isn’t so obvious how much they’re fidgeting. 

“In the market for a date, eh?” is what he’s apparently stuck on, which, seeing as it’s literally the first sentence of many, means he hasn’t quite absorbed the exact ramifications of everything else Dex just told him.

Dex shrugs, his own hands twitching nervously at his sides. “I mean, where ‘date’ is a synonym for ‘committed long term relationship with my hopeless forever crush,’ then sure, it’s accurate.”

Even more keywords! Very revealing ones! Damn, Nursey probably owes Chowder both his life savings and his firstborn.

“Oh, shit, you had- have a crush. On _me_. _Forever_.” Nursey knows he sounds like a starstruck idiot, but he can work with this. Dex looks both pained and endeared to whatever dumb face he’s making. “Yo, does anyone else know?”

“That’s the first thing you ask me?”

“Humor me? I’m still working through the rest of it.” He gives Dex his most winsome smile, the one that he knows can melt hearts. The best it earns for him here is a fondly put-upon sigh.

“Yeah, there might be a few people who know. Probably exactly who you think they are. One of them told me that I needed to get my shit together and stop wasting the best years of my life wishing instead of doing.”

They turn away from each other long enough to see Chowder and Farmer swaying back and forth together, radiant and rapturous.

“Funny. I got a very similar speech a few minutes ago,” Nursey admits, and Dex laughs under his breath. “Thank god at least some of us have some sense.”

“We really lucked out, meeting C.”

“Nah, I think it’s more like a sign that the universe wanted us to be happy.”

Dex watches the happy couple with a wistful sort of joy before looking back at Nursey just as softly. “So what do you say? Can I take you out tomorrow?”

Nursey’s been waiting on these words for so long that he’s surprised his heart isn’t doing cartwheels as he answers. Instead, he just feels like he’s finally finished re-reading a beloved book. “Well, you know me, I always want in on your plans, but I guess it depends. Can I take you home the next day?”

 _And every day after that_ goes unspoken, but Nursey knows Dex understands. 

“Yeah, I think I can make that work,” Dex replies, aglow with happiness, and Nursey has already started composing variation 167, but it can wait for another night. Dex is taking his hand, and pulling him back across the room as the first notes of a new song fill the air.

“I think I owe you a dance,” Dex says, and Nursey smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: bed sharing/room sharing

“Come on up,” Dex says as he unlocks the door. There are trees lining the sidewalk in front of the brick building, and at this time of night, even only a few streets away from the nearest T station, the city is quiet. It’s as quaint as you can get in a metropolitan setting without having to move far west enough to wind up in the suburbs, and Dex admits that he’s grown used to it.

“I’m still blown away by how good you got at riding the subway,” Nursey says, nudging him with an elbow as they climb the stairs to Dex’s fourth floor apartment. “Remember that time you somehow wound up over in Queens?” he asks, teasing. 

“That’s because your stupid train routes make zero sense,” Dex gripes.

“You’re a smart guy, Dex; you can figure out public transportation. I believe in you. Besides, it’s not that much better here.”

“It’s easier! There’s only five lines.” Nursey rolls his eyes.

“And I quote, ‘The green line is literally the fifth circle of hell and I hate everyone on it, including myself.’ Said by you only three weeks ago. Insightful, really.”

“One, that was a one-off comment, and two, okay, it wasn’t. I mean that always; the green line is a travesty and a curse. Trains are bad.”

“Well, I’m just proud of you for not throwing down against the ticket machine,” Nursey laughs.

They're more or less meandering upwards, slowly working off the heaviness of dinner and drinks. In the cool stillness of an early June evening, the glow of a late summer sunset seems still to be hanging in the air even though the day grows late. A thin line of music can be heard from through the walls - Édith Piaf, from what Dex can make out as they pass.

Nursey’s fingers brushes against Dex’s as they round the last flight, and Dex instinctively resists his desire to link their hands, then remembers that he can totally do that now. So he does, taking Nursey’s hand, then forcibly cracking two of his knuckles; Nursey yelps, and reflexively clenches his fingers hard around Dex’s until he’s wincing too.

“Ow, you dick, I’m trying to compliment you here,” Nursey says with a pout, and Dex leaves a kiss on the back of his hand before letting them into his apartment.

Nursey has a tendency these days to turn into jelly when he's both sleepy and a little drunk, so they manage to get a glass of water in him and kiss lazily against Dex’s fridge for a few minutes until he starts to dissolve into pudding in Dex’s arms.

“Well, that answers one question,” Dex says into a sea of dark curls as Nursey tries again to nap vertically on him and they begin listing toward one side.

“Mmm, yeah, I think the only sleeping with you I’m up to right now is the literal kind,” Nursey mumbles against his throat, and Dex gently starts walking them backwards toward his bedroom.

“Sounds good to me.” He keeps one hand at Nursey’s waist and the other at the small of his back to guide him across the floor. Nursey’s arms are still wrapped around him like a kite in a tree, but they manage despite his tendencies.

“I take back everything I said about your dancing skills,” Nursey says as Dex turns them so he can drop him softly on the bed without Nursey sending them both crashing to the ground. 

“Pretty fly for a white guy, eh?”

“Wow, okay, never mind.” Nursey laughs quietly into the pillow as Dex flips him off and returns to undoing the buttons on his shirt. It's one that Dex recognizes, which means they've been dating for long enough that Dex has started to memorize the contents of Nursey's closet again. The thought doesn't annoy him the way it did back in school, when he’d reach for a shirt and come up with a soft-knit sweater because Nursey had accidentally stolen his clothes again.

Nursey’s hands come up to bracket Dex’s hips as each button is freed. They're older now, obviously, but he still looks as sweetly pliant as he used to those odd nights Dex helped put him to bed after a kegster. It had been a different kind of yearning back then, new and undefined and terrifying, too much for the fragile peace they were building between themselves to explore. That was the working excuse anyway, more and more inapplicable as time went on, but it was what Dex held onto to protect his heart.

Now, he can lean down and press a kiss to Nursey’s lips if he wants to, his heartbeat only skipping because Nursey can still leave him breathless no matter how many years pass. He does so, and Nursey tries to tug him down to the sheets as well, but he slips free.

“Nope, not yet. Your morning breath is bad enough as it is; it’s biological warfare when you don’t brush your teeth.”

Nursey whines, reaching for the hem of Dex’s shirt to try and ensnare him again. “Can't you just pour some mouthwash down my throat and call it a day?”

“Is drowning in listerine really the way you wanna go out?”

“Going out the way I came in: minty fresh.”

“Not tonight, you’re not,” Dex says, kicking off his socks as he walks toward the bathroom. He drops clothes as he goes - belt, and shirt, and undershirt - like a sexy striptease trail, except it’s not sexy; he’s just fucking lazy. He kept a lot of the habits he developed through a childhood of living in a crowded house with little personal space and privacy, but sometimes he indulges in the luxury of living on his own, and does stuff like throwing his clothes wherever he wants and eating nutella straight out of the jar with a spoon. Chowder was a terrible influence on his life.

He’s brushing his teeth when Nursey finally shuffles in wearing sweatpants and a Samwell Theater t-shirt (signed by Ford in sharpie) he stole from Dex’s drawers. He drapes himself over Dex’s shoulders and reaches around him to grab his brush and blindly squeeze toothpaste onto the bristles. He winds up with a glob as large as a floret of cupcake frosting and winces when it prickles on his tongue.

They fall back into the old patterns they grew used to while living together in college, pretending to jostle for space while they brush even though the only use Dex has for the mirror is to make faces at Nursey and Chowder through their reflections. Dex finishes washing his face first and backs away from the sink to give Nursey room. Like always, he's a step too slow to avoid the claw of death swooping in to smear moisturizer on his face in three pale streaks; with a customary grimace, he allows it to happen before rubbing the lotion vigorously in, ignoring the way Nursey shakes his head in disappointment. 

Nursey is indeed minty fresh when they kiss again, but still as structurally sound as a melting flan, so Dex maneuvers them back to bed. Because he’s a considerate person even when only half-awake, Nursey has tossed all of Dex’s shedded clothing onto his chair so they don’t wind up a very romantically injured accident on the floor. They flop onto Dex’s slightly too-small-for-two bed foregoing the covers even though the summer heat hasn’t grown sticky yet.

“You wanna be the big spoon or the little spoon?” Nursey asks, turning his head against Dex’s pillow to watch him with those lovely eyes, half-lidded and sentimental. He’s probably composing something in his head again, twirling language together in ways Dex couldn’t even dream of. Nursey needs to write in the same way other people need to feel sunlight on their skin, and Dex has always admired the tenacity he knows it must take for him to keep writing even when the words don't come easy.

“How ‘bout the soup spoon,” he replies as he wraps an arm across Nursey’s waist. Nursey sleeps flat on his back anyway, so cuddling isn't very effective, but Dex knows being held makes him feel more grounded. He leaves his palm resting on one sharp hipbone, tracing arcs with his fingertips. Just a small physical reminder that this is real. That what they have is real.

“Okay, you can be the salad fork and I'll be the demitasse,” Nursey says, smiling when Dex squints at him.

“You have seen _in person_ that I don’t know what any of those things are,” Dex grumbles. He’s been to a handful of these ridiculous functions that Nursey’s family has to attend on occasion, and resigned himself to surreptitiously studying other people before picking up a utensil. At least the food is always stellar. Luckily, Nursey’s parents are some of the most down-to-earth people that Dex has ever met, and have no problem eating easy mac out of mugs with them at Nursey’s place when they come to visit.

“Chill, Dex. I can teach you. A demitasse is just a small coffee cup. _Demi_ is half, and _tasse_ is cup. And a salad fork is a fork that you eat salads with. Salad is salad and fork is fork.”

“Informative. I can see why you always get five out of fives.”

Nursey gives him a little burst of a laugh, scooching an inch closer so that Dex can lean up against his shoulder. “Dude, have you been looking me up on teacher rating websites again?”

Dex makes a non-committal noise. “You have 4.5 chili peppers - where’d the other half pepper go?”

“I mean, I don’t think I lost it. I just never had it.” He shrugs, uncaring.

The expression Dex wears turns consoling. “You're seven out of five peppers to me, Nurse.”

Nursey’s smile brightens, and he covers the hand at his hip with his own. “That’s pretty damn hot - you sure you can handle it?”

“I’ll get some saltines ready in case. The food of my people.”

“Maybe try yogurt instead.”

“Oh, you have a thing for yogurt? Guess I could work with that. I mean, it’s kinda untraditional, but I could try. For you.”

“Don’t try to shame me in my own bed, Will,” Nursey exclaims, and Dex leans forward to kiss the laugh from his mouth.

“Good thing it’s my bed, then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for sharing.”

Nursey really does look like he’s going to nod off any minute, but before his eyes slip closed he gives Dex another thoughtful look, asking softly, “You know that time you came to visit a few years back? Around my birthday?”

It had been shortly after a major snowstorm hit the northeast; there were still piles of dirty gray slush on every corner and enough meltwater puddles to soak Dex’s socks for days, but it had been nice, to see Nursey again after half a year. The first few times they met up post-graduation, he thought it might have become awkward between them without proximity to keep them in contact, but they always picked up where they left off, all friendly chirping and stupid arguments, now colored with a few dashes of nostalgic reminiscing over the good old days. That day he had brought a potted snake plant with him as a gift, to add to the growing collection of houseplants on the sill of Nursey’s classroom.

“Yeah, we rode a sightseeing bus around Manhattan for no reason.” Dex had stayed the night, and Nursey had offered him the bed. He'd tried to refuse, but Nursey wasn't having it, and built a nest from a spare comforter in the living room before Dex could protest again. “You slept on the couch that night,” he recalls now. It had struck Dex as a strange miracle at the time, because enough time had passed since they last shared a bed for convenience and necessity that he had almost forgotten what a trial it always was. And as platonic as those moments had been, he hadn't been sure his heart could handle the fresh re-opening of the wound it would be to wake to the sight of Nursey asleep just a few inches away from him, too close to touch but never too far to fall for again and again.

“And you slept in my bed.” The hand nearest Dex tangles in the bottom hem of his t-shirt, a few of Nursey’s fingers slipping under to brush against Dex’s stomach. Dex tries not to shiver, waiting for Nursey to collect his thoughts into something more cohesive. “I woke up first, for once. You were still asleep, bundled to the max in all the blankets, except your leg. That was falling off the bed, dunno how - I fit on there just fine and we’re literally the same height.”

Nursey shakes his head, amused by a memory Dex wasn’t awake for, and takes a slight breath. “You were drooling on the pillow,” he says. “Left a wet spot the size of the pond next to your face.”

“Oh my god,” Dex groans, burying his face against Nursey’s arm.

“Nah, it was cute. I went to check on you, turn your head so you didn't drown in your own spit. You stuck your hand out of your cocoon when I did - I thought you were gonna slap me, but you grabbed my arm instead, and you wouldn't let go. I think it was some sort of anti-sibling protective instinct kicking in.

“I thought you would keep me trapped there until you woke up, and I sat down on the floor next to you because I- I guess I wanted that? I wanted to be the first thing you saw that morning.”

“Just like you used to be?” Dex asks, and Nursey nods mutely. They never talked about it, those hangover mornings where Dex jolted awake so he could untangle himself from Nursey and the sheets before anyone could catch him selling himself out with his moonstruck eyes. “But you weren't there when I woke. You were making breakfast,” he says, the memory coming back into focus, pleasantly overcast in the cool wintry gray of Nursey’s apartment that morning when Dex stepped out barefoot on the cold floorboards to see Nursey studying the spark and sizzle of oil in his frying pan.

“I guess that was always the dilemma. Do I want to be the one you wake up to, or do I want to be the one who makes you breakfast? I wanted to be both, but breakfast seemed safer.” Nursey’s smile, sheepish and uneven, reminds Dex of the years they lost. The years they- well, _wasted_ isn’t the right word for it, because this is the road they took to get to each other, and even now, knowing what they could have had sooner, Dex doesn’t think it was the wrong path. He thinks sometimes they needed to grow up apart before they could grow old together.

“You could be both. You _are_ both,” Dex says, looping his arm tighter around Nursey’s waist. “My problem was always whether I wanted to be the one to make you laugh or the one to catch you when you fall down the stairs.”

“It’s pretty cool when you do them at the same time,” Nursey says sleepily, and Dex leans in to give him one final kiss.

“Night, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Nursey drifts off first and Dex is left half-conscious, watching him in all the ways he couldn't when he was younger and less sober. Wanting him just as much as he did at nineteen. But they're here now, and Dex doesn't regret a minute that led them to this point. It feels like all that yearning was a debt to be paid before he could know how it felt for his love to be requited.

Eleven years ago, on a night much like this one, Dex had held his breath and closed his eyes, hoping against hope that Nursey wouldn’t feel his pulse running wild as he fell asleep. Tonight he exhales, waiting for his heart rate to slow, and holds Nursey closer as sleep approaches.

  


Dex wakes bathed in sunlight. Nursey is still out, tucked into Dex’s side with one arm lying at a strange angle, but he stirs when Dex shifts to stretch his legs. For a second, his forehead scrunches and his dark lashes flutter twice before his eyes open. 

“Good morning, starshine,” Dex says as Nursey turns onto his side to embrace him. His hair is a mess and he’s still blinking himself awake, but he looks rested and comfortable here in Dex’s bed. The way Dex hopes he’ll always feel when they’re together.

“Morning, Will,” Nursey responds warmly, and Dex remembers that all this was worth waiting for.

He leaves a kiss at Nursey’s jaw, his cheek, his crown. Then he props himself up with Nursey still spread across his chest, ready for the new day.

“C’mon, Nursey. Let’s go get breakfast.”


End file.
